Just Harry
by Japhia
Summary: Dumbledore gave Harry a choice. He could go back and save the wizarding world, or he could not.


White. The whitest white Harry had ever seen. That was his observation once his headmaster had left him standing in this other worldly place. He'd certainly never seen King's Cross station looking so very much like a medical ward. The only color here, being the grotesque piece of the Dark Lord, withering below a bench some ways away. It seemed silent, save for the distant whistle of a train. Was it coming his way, or was it simply a figment of his imagination?

Harry tumbled his thoughts over in his mind. His choice. He could leave the station and go back. Go back to his friends who were fighting so very hard for the safety of all who still lived. They expected him to be a hero. The prophecy was no lie. His body would be lying now on the forest floor. Or perhaps he was being displayed for the whole of Hogwarts to see. He could go back and be the savior they all wanted. Would he bask in glory? Would people cheer when his name was muttered? Would they tell stories of how he rose from the dead?

They already told stories.

The whistle sounded yet again, but slightly louder this time. He could go back. How many people could say that? Harry would be known as The Boy Who Lived for the rest of his life. He survived the killing curse as a child only because of his mother's quick thinking. This would be something entirely different. He'd been killed. He'd quite literally be hit with this curse and fallen. His body would grow cold soon, his skin clammy, and his eyes dull. Should he decide to return, he would give new meaning to the title that he already didn't quite understand. Would they weave in the word "undead"? Perhaps.

Harry briefly wondered if there was a creature like the thestral, that he might be able to see, should he come back. He was torn from his thoughts when the whistle sounded from right behind him, and turned to find a train stopped at the platform.

What if he didn't go back? He would not have to fight anymore, that's for certain. He would be abandoning his friends. His emotions seemed so very distant as he mulled over this particular thought. Could he leave Hermione and Ron to fight this war? What would happen to them when Voldemort took over? Would he slaughter her for not being born to wizarding parents? Would she someday board the same train? No. Ron is a fighter. Ron would not allow anything to happen to his new girl friend. He would most certainly keep her safe for as long as he could. What of the order, the other children at the school, the wizarding world as a whole?

His feet seamed to move before his mind had clearly stated any decision, but he didn't try to stop. He placed a hand on the train door and boarded. An open compartment just down the car was the right spot and he headed there with no thought. Rounding the corner he was met with an empty seat and a view of the ocean. The train was no longer in the station? Things began to move and Harry couldn't do a thing but sit and watch. The ocean gave way to mountains, then to clouds. Where was he? Was the train on a track? He saw beautiful colors, wonders of nature and the planet he called home.

Though he felt nothing for this trip, he did feel the slight pull forward, when the brakes stopped his journey. From his window he saw trees, perhaps a forest, perhaps a wood, he couldn't know.

With not a sound, the compartment door slid open, inviting him to stand and move back to the door just down the way. His eyes played tricks, he was sure. Out of the door which he'd boarded through, was a simple home. A familiar yet unfamiliar sight. He was sure this was his family home in Godric's Hollow. The damage he'd seen was gone. It was a quaint residence, with a gate, and flickering lights in the windows. The scorch marks, the destruction seemed to have never been. He could see from the reflection in the panes of glass that the train was pulling away, but he was far too intent on the home before him to really care about the other worldly transport at his back.

With shaking hands and a slightly nervous lick to his lips, Harry propelled himself forward. He took hold of the gate, moving it in so he might step through, but stopped as the door handle was turned. Breathing seamed impossible as a woman came into view. Her red hair was striking, but her green eyes were like looking into his own. He couldn't move. What if this was his Mirror of Erised? He could only see what he wanted most. She came closer. What if she was not there? Her hand reached out to him and he could not stop as he reached for her.

At the first touch of her skin, his heart seamed to shatter. He struggled to find purchase, his fingers tangling with hers. His vision clouded with tears, his throat restricting and breathing becoming the most difficult thing he'd ever attempted. He felt her against his cheek, her arm around his back, her hand tangling in his hair. The ground was hard against his knees and he couldn't care less. Her hand did not go through his. She gripped him so tightly and Harry had never felt this before. Another body came to his back and the utter warmth that enveloped, it was overwhelming.

Is this was family was like? Is this how it felt to be embraced by one's mother and father? Harry could not contain himself.

When he finally began to calm, his hands were stiff, having been squeezing so tightly. "Don't let go." His voice was so very quiet, but it seemed so loud.

"Never, my darling." Her words brought forth fresh streams from his eyes and he began again.

In the distance, a whistle pierced the silence of his afterlife. He no longer doubted his decision. He never would. One day, perhaps, he would see his friends again, but for now he would be what he always was.

Just Harry.


End file.
